An Addiction of a Different Sort
by RebelWriter6561
Summary: Sherlock has a very serious secret, and it must be kept at all cost. Especially from John. The best kind of fluffy crack inside.


~*~This is how pretty much all my Sherlock stories are going to come out: The lovely Kat gives me crack, I eat it up and produce fluff. I don't have a problem with it.  
It may help if readers are familiar with The Moff's _other _work before they read this, but maybe it's not entirely necessary.  
Warnings: Rampant crack and fluff and a few words.  
Musical Muse: Sherlock's lovely voice.  
Disclaimer: I don't own nothin.  
Much love to Beta/Muse Kat

~*~An Addiction of a Different Sort~*~

Sherlock had a secret. It was a horribly humiliating secret, a deep, dark, awfully terrible secret that _no one_ must ever learn. Not Mycroft, not Mrs. Hudson, not even John. Especially not John.

But of course, John was the cause of the problem. He was the start of the problem, and Lord knows, he was certainly exacerbating the situation. He was the one the secret had to be kept from the most. For if he knew…

He could see John now, sitting in his chair with his laptop perched on his thighs. His bright eyes were focused intently on the screen, seemingly unable to look away. His shoulders were tensed, his face hard and serious, and only someone as observant as Sherlock could see the way John's leg was twitching. Sherlock wanted to jump up, confiscate the laptop, and replace it with himself. But surely that would cause John to ask too many questions.

Sherlock's secret had almost become exposed far too many times as it was. Sherlock couldn't explain it, this inability to retain his indifferent and collected front when this situation presented itself. He tried very hard, and so far had kept his composure, but it was only a matter of time before his secret was out.

John exhaled loudly, drawing Sherlock's eyes back to him from where they had strayed in his musings. John closed down his laptop, rubbing his hand over his face with something Sherlock would call…relief and yet still a bit of trepidation remained. John perceived Sherlock's inquiring gaze, and met his eyes with a sheepish grin.

"I don't think I'll be going near statues for a few days." John stood and stretched, lifting his arms over his head so his jumper rode up and gave Sherlock a glimpse what was hidden underneath. John was favoring his leg slightly, he couldn't help but notice.

"Do tell." Sherlock knew he sounded bored, but inside he was terribly curious. John gave him a look, no doubt wondering why Sherlock was asking about such a trivial thing.

"Oh, well… this episode I just watched…rather terrifying." Sherlock shot him a shocked look before he forced his face back into impassability. "The angels…statues. They're statues when you're looking, but when you look away or even blink…they get rid of you." John didn't elaborate, and Sherlock didn't ask further. He stayed silent as John fixed his last cup of the night and turned in.

Sherlock waited as John climbed the stairs to his room. He waited as he heard John move around his room and bath. He waited for another half-hour after he heard John's mattress stop squeaking. Once it was obvious John was done for the night, he swiftly moved to sit in John's chair and started up the laptop again. As he waited for the login page to appear, he couldn't help but relax his spine into the curve of John's chair. Was it really more comfortable than the sofa, or was it just because it was John's chair?

John's password was hardly a secret to be kept at this point, and if he ever caught Sherlock nabbing the laptop for "research" he usually just told Sherlock the correct password for whatever he needed. Sherlock suspected he did so just to bother him. It was only a matter of seconds before he was watching what John had viewed just over an hour ago.

Forty-five minutes later, Sherlock not-so-subtly lifted the covers off John's bed and crawled in. John sleepily complied with Sherlock re-arranging his arms and torso for maximum contact with little fuss. Once Sherlock was settled with his chin resting on the crown of John's head, he began with an obvious question:

"And what brings you here Sherlock?" His voice was muffled, sleepy, greatly unsurprised. Sherlock found it immensely relaxing as the ordeal from the past hour faded thanks to John's presence.

"Just ensuring that the angels don't sneak up in our sleep." He really didn't have to say more than that; John understood and Sherlock knew the exact second he figured it out. He could feel John's chest moving, shaking beneath his hands.

"You…you said you don't watch Doctor Who." Damn that smugness in John's voice. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, but didn't release him. It seemed the secret was out.

Was it really such a loss?

"I was merely examining what had you so on edge." Sherlock's fingers may have subtly brushed John's shoulder before stilling. John huffed that sigh he did when he decided not to push a subject any further. He worked an arm free from the Sherlock knot to pull the blankets up over their shoulders.

"Well, if you're going to watch out for angels, just don't blink." Sherlock silently seethed as John, for all intents and purposes, went back to sleep.

~*~Yep, the angel episode of Doctor Who. It gave me the creeps, and I don't get scared. I laugh at horror movies, and it creeped me.  
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